


De Novo

by AnonymousFan



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, I have had so much to do these past few weeks, I promise it's not that sad, I sincerely apologize for this chaos, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Canon, it's mostly just short, lord help me, these tags make it sound so sad??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 18:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousFan/pseuds/AnonymousFan
Summary: For the 2018 Sewerchat Solstice Exchange.Marius becomes obsessed with the mysterious suicide who helped Jean Valjean save his life that fateful June evening.





	1. Striking a Match

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carnivorousblossom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=carnivorousblossom).



> The title is a legal term, and its meaning should become clear around chapter seven. The definition by uscourts.gov is "Latin, meaning 'anew.' A trial de novo is a completely new trial." Wikipedia says that "A trial de novo is usually ordered... when the original trial failed to make a determination in a manner dictated by law."
> 
> The prompt was "Marius/Javert: Can be any rating or length, one-sided or not, I just like fics where Marius is infatuated with Javert. But no infidelity please!"
> 
> I hope I did your request justice—I love Valvert too much to ship the Inspector with anyone else, but I really enjoyed analyzing the two characters and how they would interact in a post-canon scenario. Happy Holidays!

If anything were absolutely indisputable, it was the fact that Marius Pontmercy was an obsessive personality.

From his father to Napoleon, from Cosette to the barricades, the young Baron had the annoying propensity for honing his attention on one subject and one subject only for months at a time. It was the reason for many a grievance on behalf of his grandfather, who in his supercilious wisdom equated his one-track mind to that of a horse with blinkers around its eyes: “If you can only see the road in front of your face, you’ll be at the mercy of the cab driver.”

Marius, unable to formulate a refutory witticism, would nod his head amicably and shrug, deftly and deliberately ignoring it.

For Cosette, her husband’s niche specialties were an object of fascination and amusement, and she would tease him gently that he would wander off on a tangent someday and never return. Of course, this was all done in good humor, for Cosette was the sole interest whom Marius would treasure until the day he died.

But he had learned all he could about his father, he was no longer a Bonapartist, and he was wed to his precious Cosette. The barricades were long gone, swept away with his friends by the widows and their brooms. Marius once again wore black, this time for Jean Valjean, who could have been his father if the boy had not been so headstrong. The Baron had grown restless with his bourgeois lifestyle—he needed an outlet for his wandering mind.

And so it was that Marius found himself rifling absently through his books when a slip of paper fell from between the pages. As he bent down to pick it up, he realized it was the newspaper clipping Thénardier had given him the day Valjean had died: “Police agent Javert was found drowned under a boat of the Pont au Change.”

A spark of curiosity illuminated his eyes. Who was this Javert, anyway? The Inspector had been entangled in the boy’s life since the Gorbeau affair, yet Marius knew next to nothing about him. Subtle inquiries at the Prefecture provided no evidence, which only incensed the Baron to dig further into the mystery of this insular policeman. Thus another one of Marius’s pursuits was kindled into shaky existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The working title for this was "Marius Has Dad Issues."
> 
> Just thought you'd like to know.


	2. Ghosts.

“It says here that he had written… some sort of suicide letter before he drowned. Is that- do you still have it?”

Marius stood rocking on his heels with his hands behind his back. The grizzled officer at the desk in front of him peered almost-sardonically at the boy from beneath a smart pair of spectacles.

“And why,” the man asked, “would I tell you that?”

Marius swallowed and attempted to attain a look of severity. “I am Baron Marius Pontmercy. Surely you’ve heard of me.”

The old policeman gave a quick, unimpressed humph. “The grandson of that Gillenormand? Of course. But I hope you know money’ll get you nowhere with me. It certainly wouldn’t have gotten you anywhere with Javert. And if you think you’re entitled to read the Inspector’s private note to the police—which, by the way, they’re saying wasn’t even written when he was in his right mind—then you would be gravely mistaken. _Bonsoir_ , Monsieur le Baron.”

“But I need to see that letter!” Marius spluttered.

The officer lowered his voice to a warning hum. “Young men who go traipsing about on barricades have no business with an Inspector of the law.”

Marius startled, taken aback. “I didn’t… how did you-”

“My son,” the man intoned with an unplaceable air. “I lost my son.” He sighed and sank back into his chair. “I don’t know what it is you’re planning, but I would recommend you put it to rest before someone gets hurt.”

“I’m not planning anything!” blurted Marius. “Inspector Javert… he helped save my life there. Last year. And I didn’t even know him.” He removed his hat and frustratedly fiddled with its brim. “It’s just… I want to stop making the same mistakes.”

The officer frowned at Marius for a moment, considering. “Listen, Pontmercy. Javert was the best policeman Paris has ever seen. No one liked him much, but when you’ve been here as long as I have, you’ve seen it all. And in all the years Javert was here, I never once saw him do anything for himself.” He leaned in closer. “Despite what I want to believe, I don’t think you’re the type to go purposefully maligning the reputation of the law. I can’t give you the letter.”

Marius looked down, crestfallen.

“I can’t give it to you,” the man continued, “because I don’t have it. But I what I can give you is this.” The man scribbled an address on a slip of paper and offered it to Marius, who accepted and read it excitedly.

“Who is Monsieur Chabouillet?”

“The Inspector’s patron. Probably the man who knew him best outside of his own mother.”

Marius began to hurry to the door, but then he paused. “Why are you helping me?”

The officer’s expression faltered. “Because- no, it isn’t important.”

“Oh.” Marius stood there awkwardly before turning to go again. “Merci, Monsieur…?”

“Combeferre. Officier Combeferre.”


	3. Interlude I

Gillenormand poked his long, crooked nose into the room where Cosette sat sketching absentmindedly.

“Where’s that husband of yours?”

Cosette picked up her pen, looking pensive. “Come to think of it, I don’t know,” she replied. “He’s been acting rather strange ever since he went to visit the Place du Châtelet last Friday.”

The old man hummed thoughtfully. “Indeed…”


	4. The Note

Monsieur Chabouillet occupied a comfortable apartment just beyond the Jardin du Plantes, and Marius, in his distracted manner, was sorely tempted to neglect his plans for an all-day visit to the garden foliage. Nonetheless, he found himself knocking nervously on the small, wooden door, clutching Officer Combeferre’s directions tightly in his left hand.

The latch lifted, and a jovial elderly man appeared behind the door.

“Hello, who’s this?”

Marius shuffled his feet slightly. “Pardon me, sir,” he stuttered. “My name is Marius Pontmercy. Is this the house of Monsieur Chabouillet?”

The man chuckled good-naturedly and gave a hearty handshake. “Indeed it is. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve come to ask about Inspector Javert.”

The man’s smile dimmed slightly. “Oh,” he said slowly. “Why don’t you come in?”

——

Marius sat on a well-worn chair opposite Chabouillet. The man had offered him drinks, which he had declined, and they both appeared mildly uncomfortable in the modest drawing room. Chabouillet began first.

“So what makes you interested in the Inspector?”

Marius pulled at his fingernails nervously. “We, ah, knew each other, but not well. And when I saw in the newspaper… I feel like I missed an opportunity to get to know a, uh, unique character.”

The secretary did not seem entirely convinced. “Uh huh. And how exactly did you know each other?”

At this point, the young Baron was faced with a choice: he could tell Chabouillet about his less-than-daring performance in the Gorbeau House affair, or worse, his involvement in the June barricades (which was not the most legal of situations)—or he could lie. Marius, being Marius, chose the latter. And being Marius, he failed at it spectacularly.

“I met him at a- a social event,” he floundered. “Where he was… security.”

The secretary raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t know much about Javert, do you?” he deadpanned. “If you did, you would know that he has never willingly gone to a ‘social event’ in his life.”

Marius wanted to melt into his chair, but Chabouillet continued.

“Luckily for you, I know who _you_ are. If not by your name, then just by your description. Javert complained to me on multiple occasions about ‘that imbecile lawyer’ who stole his pistols.” Chabouillet grinned. “But I doubt you’ve come to return them.”

Marius, flushed with embarrassment, shook his head. “I was told you had his suicide note.”

The man opposite him sat pensively for a moment, studying him. Then he made his way to a cabinet near the bookshelf and retrieved a small key from his pocket. After unlocking the cabinet, he withdrew a single sheet of paper.

“I’m seventy-one years old,” Chabouillet said. “I’ve saved up enough money for retirement, mainly thanks to being the only beneficiary in Javert’s will, however small that was. I’m not going to be around for much longer, and even if I were, no one pays much heed to the whimsy of an old man.” He chuckled. “I’m not senile enough to go off about how ‘he’d want you to have this,’ because he’s probably rolling in his grave as we speak. But you’re still young and willing enough to make a difference with whatever you find in this letter, and that’s really all that matters.”

Marius puzzled over this as the secretary handed him the note. Across the top, neat, practical lettering read: “A Few Observations for the Good of the Service.” As the Baron scanned the list, he grew more befuddled. Surely this was not the same unfazeable policeman who had sneered as the students bound him to a table…?

Chabouillet seemed to understand his confusion. “Interesting, isn’t it, how you can think you know someone before realizing you don’t know them at all.”

Marius thought first of his father, and then of Jean Valjean. He nodded. “Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you.” He stood to leave.

Chabouillet held the door for him “And if you’re ever around this quarter, stop on by—I don’t get many visitors.”

The young Baron smiled. “Yes, sir.”


	5. Interlude II

That week, Cosette spent more time than usual in the streets giving alms to the beggars and urchins. When a little girl with no shoes asked her why she was alone, Cosette just smiled and gave her a sack of sous.

“My husband is working on a project, and I’ve never much liked being confined to the great indoors,” she beamed.

“What’s the project?” asked the girl in a shrill squeak.

Cosette's smile faded. “I don’t know,” she replied.


	6. Confrontation

At around midnight, Marius crept in through the back of the servants entrance, shutting the door as quietly as he could. Slowly, he pivoted toward the stairs.

“Where have you been?”

Cosette stood in the hallway, arms crossed over her chest. Marius squinted, just noticing the dark circles that has formed under her hazel eyes.

“I…”

“It can’t be someone else, because you wouldn’t do that, despite what your aunt seems to think. But where,” Cosette asked, infuriated, “have you been?”

Marius swallowed. “ _Ma chérie_ , it’s not what you think- ”

“I don’t know what I think!” Cosette flung up her hands emphatically. “I thought there were no more secrets between us. Isn’t that what we agreed?” A single frustrated tear threatened to roll down her face, but she blinked it away.

“Isn’t that what we agreed?” She repeated softly. “After my father died?“

Marius hung his head. “I was at the Pont au Change. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

Cosette pursed her lips.“It’s not just tonight,” she said. “It’s the unexplained absences, the infrequent trips—Marius, I just want you to talk to me.”

Her husband stared at the ground. “I’m researching the life of Inspector Javert. The man who chased Jean Valjean for fifteen years. The man who helped save me on the night of the barricades. And…” Marius faltered. “I think he may have tried to save your father as well.”

He looked up. Cosette was staring at him with an odd, distant look in her eye.

“Oh, Marius,” she exclaimed tearfully, taking his hands in hers. “Why didn’t you take me with you? I was so worried!”

“N-no,” Marius said, taking a reluctant step back. “I think it’s something I have to do alone.”

Cosette’s face fell. “But why?”

“It just seems like… it’s what I’m meant to do. Just as I was meant to see you in the Luxembourg that day. Just like your father was meant to find me at the barricade. I don’t know—I know there’s got to be a reason why I survived that barricade. Why I’m here, with you. And I think…” Marius ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just something beyond my control.”

Cosette’s expression hardened. “Be that as it may, I am through with being told to stay home and mind my own business.” She turned on her heel and climbed the stairs. “And it’s time for bed.”

——

In the soft sheets of his bedroom, the young Baron lay on his side. Cosette had purposefully moved to the far end of the bed to avoid touching him, and the lack of familiar warmth kept him from falling asleep. He carefully opened the drawer next to his bed, trying hard not to wake Cosette, and took out the suicide note. In the dim light from the half-open window, he scanned the page for the hundredth time.

“What do you want from me?” he whispered to the words on the paper. “What do I want from you?”

Receiving no divine answer, Marius sighed and placed the letter on his bedside table. It was another hour before he managed to fall asleep.


	7. Ghosts?

The first thing Marius noticed was the sound of running water. He opened his eyes, unable to remember when he had shut them. He was, once again, at the Pont au Change, staring down at the swirling Seine. Feeling a presence beside him, he looked to his right. A tall figure in a greatcoat was clutching the railing next to him, calm and composed. Marius felt as though he should be frightened, but he instead felt a strange sense of kinship with the stranger. Was it really a stranger, Marius thought, if he already felt so close to him? For without saying a word, Marius was sure who the mysterious person was.

“Monsieur l’Inspecteur?” he asked.

Javert lifted his head in affirmation. The two stood silently for a beat before the Inspector began to speak.

“You read my observations.” It was not a question.

Marius quickly attempted to justify himself. “I apologize if you consider it an invasion of your privacy. I was grateful that you helped save me, and I…” He trailed off, swallowing.

Javert was staring at him, almost amused. “Are you always so insufferably jumpy?”

Marius flushed in embarrassment. “I- I think so?”

The Inspector abruptly turned back to the Seine. “Well, no matter. Whatever your nosy intentions may have been, you are the first person who ever took an interest in my life, and for that,” Javert paused, evidently unaccustomed to emotions, “I thank you.”

Marius was speechless as Javert continued. “I believe my acquaintance Officer Combeferre may have told you that I was considered the most adept policeman in Paris.” He grimaced. “And I damn well believed it.”

The Inspector removed his hat and placed it to his right. “On the night Jean Valjean appeared out of the sewers with you on his back, I realized that throughout my career, I’d been persecuting the very people I had been charged to protect. And thus I chose to end my life.” He looked toward Marius again, and the Baron saw that his eyes were wet with tears, though none dared roll down the harsh features.

“I was a failure in life,” came Javert’s baritone, “but I refuse to be a failure in death. You have my letter, and I trust you to see to it that all those observations are implemented.” He chuckled to himself without humor. “Although God knows why I’m trusting you of all people.”

Marius was stunned for a moment, taking it in. “And how- how do you know I’ll be able to do it?”

Javert smiled softly. It was a gruesome smile, but in the pale moonlight, it was beautiful and genuine. “Any relative of Jean Valjean would find a way,” he said. “And I’ll be on your side, if that counts for anything.”

The sun peaked out from the east bank, and Marius’s surroundings began to fade like running watercolors. The Inspector glanced toward the light. “It took me a very long time to realize that a new day always dawns.”

Marius opened his mouth to say ask one last question, but he was suddenly blinded by the brilliant white.

And then Javert was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you call Ghost!Javert? _An In-SPECTER!_
> 
> ...I am so sorry.


	8. Epilogue

Marius awoke to find Cosette sitting up in bed, reading a yellowing slip of paper.

“Dear, did you read this? I assume you already have—it’s absolutely fascinating!” Cosette handed him Javert’s suicide note. “I had no idea conditions in prison were so awful.”

Marius stared at her. “You- you really think so?”

She nodded emphatically, and Marius reflexively flashed a small smile.

“I, ah, was actually going to take that up with the police today.” Noticing her expectant gaze, he shyly amended his statement. “Would you- I mean, do you want to help?”

Cosette flung her arms around him. “Of course I do!” She hugged her bewildered husband without a trace of the tension from the night before. “You know all I want is for you to let me help you, right? Because I love you.”

Marius hugged her back tightly. “I love you too, Cosette.”

That afternoon, the young couple entered the station-house armed with a letter and a strong sense of justice, ready to change the world for the better.


End file.
